Creating A Monster

I wait on my knees, with the steel chastity tube locked between my legs, for Bootsie's return.

How will she come back? Freshly fucked or with semen residue on her glossed lips? Have I made a mistake by relinquishing all control of my marriage?

2009

"Oh Silas, honey. That's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Bootsie's enthusiasm was bubbly as she locked the cage of the chastity belt on me for the first time. "I didn't know that they had such things."

But, then again, she'd not been interested in domming me until I'd brought it up back home, and so the new little gimmicks I kept coming up with were creating a beautiful monster in my otherwise reserved wife.

When Bootsie locked the belt and saw my inability to even get an erection, she giggled. "Now, Silas, just because you can't have an orgasm doesn't mean I can't. Get on the bed, and pleasure me, you little nincompoop."

As I licked Bootsie's juices from her clit, I noticed that I just couldn't get any sort of erection—the bars were too confining! When Bootsie had cum about three times, I looked at her questioningly.

"Why, what is it, Silas?" She looked so innocently puzzled.

"Well, can't we remove the chastity belt so I can fuck you now, honey?"

Bootsie smiled, and wrinkled her nose. "I-I don't think so, baby. It's not about your satisfaction. How can you satisfy Bootsie over the next few weeks?"

The next few weeks? I spent the next month cleaning the house, doing the laundry and the yardwork, and doing much of the cooking, bad as I was at it.

Bootsie didn't help, as she began wearing more of her "trollop clothes." I had always tried to get Bootsie, a granola type, to display her great body in sexy, white-trash-girl outfits, and she'd been much more into the overall thing.

But suddenly, Bootsie was wandering around the house in hot pink tube tops, watching me scrub the floor as her long legs tapped high heels waiting for me.

Bootsie also became very exacting, and somewhat cruel. "Now let me show you what you did wrong in cleaning the toilet, Silas." Bootsie said one day as I looked up at her with my brush.

Bootsie used a small hand mirror to show me the inside of the toilet and the little bits of crud that I'd missed.

Suddenly, Bootsie cuffed my hands behind my back, and unlocked my chastity device, running her fingers up and down my cock until it was quite hard.

"You see, Silas, you're much too focused on your own orgasms." Bootsie said. "I mean to cure you of this." Bootsie took me out to the back yard, stark naked, and I watched, shivering in the November air as she cut a switch from a spruce tree.

As Bootsie trimmed the small twigs off the switch, she lectured me about my lack of focus.

"I see this in men everywhere, in my workplace, in my family of origin, everywhere." Bootsie cut the last of the little pieces off, and folded her knife up. "You all are much too interested in your own self-centeredness."

Bootsie walked up and lifted the switch. WHACK! A thin line of fire landed across my hard cock and I screamed. It was fortunate that the yard was fenced.

"Look at you, Silas. You partied your way out of Julliard Music school, and have been working as a used-car salesman for the past eighteen years."

WHACK! WHACK! The switch gashed the glans of my penis, and I should have gone limp, but I was so damned excited.

Bootsie began rubbing my penis with her soft hands. "And I know you want the best for me and us. I know you're a good man, but you just are too distracted by your penis. It's really very sad."

I got harder and harder, and soon my erection was poking into her jean covered leg. Was she going to fuck me now? No such luck.

Bootsie backed off again and lifted the switch WHACK! WHACK! SLAP! "I need you to be more attentive with your housework. Let's go back into the bathroom, and look at what you did."

Bootsie locked the chastity belt back on me and led me in.

Back in the bathroom, Bootsie showed me the toilet again, and then (as my hands were still cuffed) she put my head in the toilet and closed the lid over it. Then she tied a strap on, so I couldn't move.

"Try not to drown, Silas" Bootsie said gently. "And think about what I said."

There is no greater terror than staring into water right up to your nose. And what if she decided to flush?

What was harder, the housework and the beatings, or the fact that I was so sexually deprived?

Of course whenever I got really horny, and couldn't touch myself, I'd do the next best thing and take those hot little clothes off and give Bootsie long and lingering tongue baths.

At the end of the first month, Bootsie let me fuck her, and it was fabulous...I came so hard I almost knocked us off the bed! But then she put the cage back on me for another month.

At the end of THAT month, Bootsie only gave me a handjob. At the end of the third month, Bootsie let me jerk off, refusing to touch me...and I shouldn't have complained, because I was still having great orgasms.

By the beginning of next year, Bootsie's monthly orgasm allotment for me involved much more preparation. I had to put nipple clamps on, and paint my fingernails red, and shove a Preparation H-covered cucumber up my ass.

Then I would look up at Bootsie while she played with her full breasts in a body stocking and masturbate slowly.

When I finally was cumming, Bootsie would order me to take my hands off my cock, which spoiled my orgasm, though of course the spurt came out.

And then of course I had to lick it up.

One night I came home and Bootsie had a surprise for me. "This is a more advanced chastity device" she said, showing me a tiny steel test-tube shaped object. "We can attach that to your belt.

I feel that your cage gives your erection too much freedom, and perhaps you would be more productive if we just had your limp penis in a tube."

More productive? I cleaned and cooked and serviced Bootsie nightly. What on earth more did she need?

When my two weeks denied erection came out, I thought maybe Bootsie would give me a treat by letting me cum early, instead of waiting til the end of the month. No such luck.

"You see, Silas." Bootsie said,looking irritable, this is the problem." Bootsie took a steel slide rule and whacked my penis harshly. "Your penis is so focused on it's—male satisfaction."

It took two whacks to make my dick go down completely.

Tears came to my eyes, but Bootsie ignored me as she pushed my limp penis into the chastity tube. When had she become so cruel and clinical?

As Bootsie locked up the tube, she said, "Now you won't be bothered by all those erections, and I don't have to dress like a prostitute any more to make you do housework."

"Bootsie, it's not dressing like a prostitute, I just miss the way you wore date clothes like you occasionally did before we were married." I said mildly.

CRACK! Bootsie hit my cheek with the slide rule and I winced. Oh the sting was unbearable. "It's comments like those which aren't helpful. Your entire attitude needs to be revamped."

I really had created a monster. One night as I was orally servicing Bootsie, she announced that she had a boyfriend. A BOYFRIEND? "It began about a month or so ago." Bootsie said offhandedly as I gasped between her legs. "I miss getting fucked...but not by your dick."

I pulled my head up from Bootsie's legs. "But you told me when we were dating that women don't care about size." I looked at her pleadingly. "You said that it was how a man used his organ, and how sensitive it was."

Bootsie snickered. "Yes, and you told me that you were only going to work in your dad's used-car lot as a temporary thing until your rock band got a few more gigs, and then we'd buy a house in France."

Oh, revenge. It was true. Bootsie hated being the wife of a used-car lot owner, and I had been full owner now for five years, and hadn't played music, not that I was ever good at it, in seven or eight.

"Besides, Silas." Bootsie said earnestly. "Women always tell men that about the penis thing. Certainly I watch you staring at other women's breasts almost constantly when we go out. Size is quite important."

A week later Bootsie came home with a new hairstyle and was putting on a sexy dress, not the type of hippie gunny sack she favored with me. It really showed off her full, soft breasts, and my cock was miserably trying to rebel in the Tube.

"Strip naked, Silas." Bootsie cuffed my hands behind my head. "My friend, Master Rasputin, is coming over to babysit with you while I'm on my date. I hope you'll look after him with tenderness and sensitivity."

Master Rasputin was nothing like the legendary Russian agitator. He was a long, thin black man, dressed in leather pants and a t-shirt with a skull on it.

"You'll enjoy Silas, Rassie" Bootsie said as she finished with her lip gloss and walked out the door. "His daddy was in the Ku Klux Klan, and Si talks about what fun he had when he wore his first little tiny white outfit."

This was a blatant lie, but what could I do? That night, Rasputin taught me how to suck dick. This was absolutely horrible, and I understood finally why Bootsie had never liked doing it, not that she had since I'd asked her to be my dominant Mistress.

When Bootsie returned, she walked in on Rasputin whipping my bare ass with a belt because he said I gave him a "racist" look while sucking his cock. He threw the belt down with a laugh, and they kissed. "How was it, baby? Did the date go well?" Rasputin asked.

"Oh, God...I blew Brandon about four times, and he fucked me in every room in his parent's house. He's a little young." They giggled together.